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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931162">filthy, impetuous soul (i wanna give it to you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby/pseuds/Gabby'>Gabby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>365 Dni | 365 Days (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Sarcasm, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:22:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby/pseuds/Gabby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena Russo has already risen to the challenge of being the manager of a successful Chicago bank but, faces a new set of challenges when her dear uncle entrenches himself in the Sicilian Mafia.</p><p>Things get sticky on a business trip to the home of a certain mob boss.</p><p>It gets even stickier still when that mob boss winds up desiring something other than financial advice.</p><p>Oh, this should be interesting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Massimo Torricelli/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. meet the devil you know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, here’s the thing, I haven’t been around these parts in a good, long-ass while because, chief among many reasons, lack of desire and inspiration. Like many of you, I’m sure, during this quarantine, I have taken the time to re-watch old favorites (Buffy &amp; Veronica Mars), even get into some of the new (Dead to Me) and in general, spending a lot of time in my kitchen... it’s been an interesting time.</p><p>Then, a couple of nights ago, I had done exactly that (Like Father is delightful, more Kristen Bell always!) and some browsing and article reading later, I took the plunge and booted up 365 Days.</p><p>Guys.</p><p>This movie is bananas! </p><p>I’m not even gonna get into how problematic this whole thing is because you all already know that (from those who absolutely detested it to others, like me, who appreciated it for the softcore porn that it is) and this isn’t gonna be a dissertation on if you watch it for the wrong reasons, you’re a bad feminist or scolding others for shitting on people who saw it with no shame.</p><p>Everybody has their opinion and honestly, with a movie like this, everyone has a point (except for those judging people they don’t know for what they enjoy, can’t stand that, sorry).</p><p>That’s not what this is about and that’s not why I’m here.</p><p>Now, onto the story.</p><p>Who knew that a movie like this would inspire me more than anything has in over a year? Also, Michele Morrone? *purrs* damn, that man is a feast for the eyes. </p><p>This is basically my excuse to do my best in dropping Massimo Torricelli into my very own fic having little to do with kidnapping to coerce affection (not cool, dude, not cool at all!) and everything to do with a Chicago bank manager getting in over her head when her boss gets entrenched with the Sicilian mob (can ya guess who she meets? hmm?).</p><p>Also, there’s slow burn-ish, will they/won’t they? (oh, they will) romance stuff that happens, too.</p><p>Sound good?</p><p>Cool. Enjoy.</p><p>Title is taken from the song You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elena Russo would never have thought there would be a day when she would be right up in the face of the man who she had always thought of as a father. Her uncle. The only piece of her mother she’d ever been close to. The man who essentially raised her and taught her everything. Encouraged her education and helped her enter the world of finance with an entry-level job at one of the most successful banks in the Midwest that he also happened to co-own with his late partner. Leading to her current promotion as bank manager at Ross &amp; Russo.</p><p>Frederico Russo gave her <em>everything</em> and never once asked for anything back. Only that she work hard and not waste the potential that she was constantly reminded that she had in spades.</p><p>Yet here she is.</p><p>Voice raised. Figure wagging and all.</p><p>She's never wagged a finger at anybody in her entire thirty years of living. She's a bank manager, not a schoolmarm. Who even does that any more?</p><p>”You what?!”</p><p>The man she has called Uncle Freddy since before she could remember could only wince at the pitch of her voice. Which, honestly, fair enough because not even as a teenager did she ever yell, or otherwise raise her voice at him.</p><p>"It was an accident-"</p><p>"A stupid bike bumping a car is an accident, getting involved in the Italian-"</p><p>"-Sicilian-"</p><p>"-<em>Sicilian</em>-" She corrects herself dryly. "-Mafia is not so, explain to me how you managed to involve yourself in the actual, honest-to-god-from-the-motherland, mob."</p><p>"I don't want-"</p><p>"Uncle Freddy." There, now she's using The Voice. The same voice that she used when doing that PowerPoint presentation after college to convince him that backpacking through Europe before committing to a full-time job was a good idea.</p><p>And she's using that voice now.</p><p>Replete with hands on her hips and everything.</p><p>"Well..." Her uncle seems to age at an even more rapid pace in front of her very eyes. "...Remember when Ivan and I went on that business trip to Italy last year?"</p><p>And so it goes. The tale to end all tales of how Ivan Ross, her uncle's late business partner and friend, had made the coincidental acquaintance of one Mafia don, Massimo Torricelli, head of the Torricelli crime family of Sicily, and then introduced him to Frederico and that they have since been handling his financial assets from overseas.</p><p>"Oh god." She feels the room start to spin, everything swirling and blurring her vision, the feeling in her gut begging her to confirm that, please, please, it can't be- "You've been handling the money of a crime lord for the past year?"</p><p>She feels herself plop onto something firm and soft. The couch. Maybe.</p><p>It's not like she cares right now.</p><p>"No, Elena." Freddy shakes his head enough that she's almost scared he might collapse for a moment. "No, it's not like that, he-"</p><p>"He what?' She gives him a look clearly saying her feelings on the matter. "He's misunderstood? Not leading an organization that condones drugs and kidnapping and murder?"</p><p>"He's... different."</p><p>"Different how?"</p><p>"Young. A little crazy." He scrubs a hand through his graying hair, taking off his glasses and hastily wiping them on a cloth. A nervous tick. "Arrogant. An arrogance that's earned. He's dangerous, Elena."</p><p>"So, not the cuddly type, then?"</p><p>"Elena. He offers protection for those under his employ. He doesn't deal in prostitution or children. As long as things go well, he wouldn't-"</p><p>"Do you hear yourself right now?" She can't believe this. Her own uncle working for a mob boss. What the hell is her life? "You are seriously defending-"</p><p>"It's gonna be alright, Elena. You'll see when you meet him."</p><p>"Meet him?!" Her head whips around so hard that it strains her neck. "I'm not meeting anybody. I don't want anything to do with this. He deals with you. Not me. I don't wanna meet him anyway."</p><p>"Well, he wants to meet <em>you</em>."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I told him that you have been promoted to bank manager and now you have a larger hand in handling the money and he wants to-"</p><p>"Jesus Christ, Uncle, no."</p><p>"Elena-"</p><p>"No!"</p><p>She's not going. Like hell. She's not going anywhere near Sicily. No. Not ever.</p><p> </p><p>She ends up on a plane to Sicily.</p><p>After a lot of thought and consideration - <em>ahem</em>, drinking - she had decided that Uncle Freddy shouldn’t be going alone anyhow.</p><p>She trusts him with everything but, this.</p><p>His well-being has often been low on his list of priorities but, she’s not going to allow it this time.</p><p>So, she’s going with him. She will try and nice. Maybe get them out of this somehow, she hopes.</p><p>She has dealt with plenty of assholes before.</p><p>Doesn’t mean she has to be happy about it, though.</p><p>Which is how she ended up on a private plane provided by the Devil himself.</p><p>She wonders if he does for everyone he harangues into business. A form of bribery perhaps.</p><p>Like, “work for me and ride this pretty plane to hell.”</p><p>Only Italy doesn’t qualify. She loves Italy. Loved it, more like. She hasn’t been in years. Not since she was little, with her parents.</p><p>
  <em>i wonder what they would think? what would they say now?<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>what would your mother say, elena?</em>
</p><p>They land onto the asphalt before she can spiral further into her thoughts and a gathering of luggage and a ride in a car - of course he sent a fucking car - later, they arrive at Castle Dracula.</p><p>(<em>excuse me. chez torricelli</em>.)</p><p>The man lives in an actual castle. An honest-to-god, real life, sprawling estate of a castle in the middle of Sicily.</p><p>This is just... too much.</p><p>They get as far as the foyer where a seating area is when they are told by one of three bulky, bald, Mr. Clean doubles tell them to wait for the boss.</p><p>Her uncle takes a seat. She doesn’t.</p><p>Minutes go by and when she glances at the time, her eye twitches.</p><p>It’s past 2:00. </p><p>Don Torricelli is late.</p><p>“He’s probably on a business call.”</p><p>”Or, y’know, hanging someone by their ankles, maybe. But, hey, same thing.”</p><p>”Elena-“</p><p>”You know, he could at least have the courtesy of coming out here and letting us know he was gonna take a minute. Or five. Or twenty.”</p><p>”Elena-“</p><p>”No.” She could feel herself getting worked up and thinks it’s little wonder that her family has a history of high blood pressure. “He invited us here. He wanted to meet the bank manager handling his money so, where is he now?”</p><p>”Elena-“</p><p>(in hindsight, if she had taken a breath instead of ranting some more, if she taken a good look at her uncle’s anxious glance behind her, would have tuned into the feeling of the new, foreboding presence in the room... well-)</p><p>”I mean, he set this up so, he could at least have the common decency to be on time or really, is that too much to ask for just a little professionalism from the great Massimo Torricelli?” She throws in air quotes for good measure because she is already so over-</p><p>”You <em>must</em> be Elena.”</p><p>She jumps at the sound of the voice right behind her, pulse racing, heart speeding, body spinning around to meet a pair of the darkest eyes-</p><p>eyes of the devil.</p><p>eyes of one Massimo Torricelli.</p><p><em>fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. mediterranean eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elena faces the embarrassment of putting her foot in her mouth and Massimo finds himself intrigued by his new guest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back! Judging by your reactions to the first chapter, y’all want some more Elena and Massimo, so here goes!</p><p>And for those wanting a clarification on how the original movie plays into my story, the simple answer is that it doesn’t really. Massimo still got shot and nearly died, his father still <i>did<i> die, and he still became the head of his happy, mafiaso family. Laura, in the meantime, wasn’t anywhere near that particular beach, went on to become a successful badass, married someone who <i>isn’t<i> Martin (that bitch loser) and fate (or whatever) never entwined her with Massimo.</i></i></i></i></p><p>You’re welcome, girl.<br/><br/>Anyway, our Massimo is pretty much the same as in the source material with a few tweaks along the way but, the base of the character is exactly as we know it: Mob boss. Black heart. Soul on a long vacation. Sexual appetites of the <i>interesting<i> variety.</i></i><br/><br/>But, more or less the same.<br/><br/>More because it’s Massimo and he is still who he is on the surface.<br/><br/>Less because, well, you’ll see.<br/><br/>Enjoy.<br/><br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He hears her - the woman managing his money, Federico Russo’s beloved niece - before he even lays eyes on her for the first time.</p><p>(in person, at least.)</p><p>(he remembers meeting frederico for the first time last summer, drinks turning into business gatherings thanks to that insufferable ivan character who thought that they were friends somehow.</p><p>he remembers being shown the photograph of a young woman in her dress blues - diploma in her fist, smile wide and bright for the camera, eyes the color of the mediterranean - remembers the high praise from the man who raised her. everything about her.</p><p>her intelligence.</p><p>her tenacity.</p><p>her ambition.)</p><p>She’s almost yelling. A tinge of outrage in her tone that almost makes him want to laugh. Becoming more and more clear as he gets closer. Frederico attempting (<em>horribly</em>, he might add) to calm her in scattered bits of Italian that surprises him that she understands, responding in kind in English.</p><p>He even entertains himself a little by slowing his foot falls and remaining out of sight in order to eavesdrop.</p><p>(it is his home.</p><p>his guests. </p><p>he may listen to any conversation he pleases.)</p><p>Her little snide remark about his inconsideration for their time does indeed make him laugh.</p><p>Oh, he is going to enjoy this.</p><p>Federico spots him immediately when he turns the corner to make his presence but, the young woman ranting, her back to him, does not.</p><p>She’s gesturing madly, talking with her hands. Almost stomping her heels as she goes on and on. Round, shapely hips and a beautiful ass, hidden beneath a sheath of a dress, moving in time with her posturing.</p><p>This has turned out better than he thought.</p><p>”-he set this up so, he could at least have the common decency to be on time or really-“</p><p>When she mentions asking for professionalism from the Great Massimo Torricelli, he has a ready made image in his head of bending her over and spanking her to get her to call him exactly that.</p><p><em>hmm</em>.</p><p>It’s amusing, the way her uncle tries and tries to warn her that he’s arrived but... well-</p><p>“You <em>must</em> be Elena.”</p><p>She almost shrieks, jumping nearly a foot in mid-air as she spins around to meet to see him for the first time.</p><p>(those eyes.</p><p>those lovely, mediterranean eyes.)</p><p>She’s small - of course she is - and like he observed before, endowed with the hourglass figure that would probably make weaker men weep.</p><p>He’s not such a man.</p><p>And regardless, the expression written on her lovely face makes it seem unlikely that she would want that.</p><p>Frederico is instantly on his feet, shaking his hand vigorously and spouting out greetings and introductions of <em>hello, my friend, please, allow me to introduce to you my niece-</em></p><p>“Elena.” He allows her name to roll off his tongue, tasting it, letting it settle like wine on his palate. “So wonderful to finally meet you.”</p><p>After quickly considering it, he settles on reaching for a handshake in spite of himself as again, the look in her eyes says she may very well slap him if his lips go anywhere near her hand.</p><p>(he is sorely tempted, though. if they had been alone, he would have. because she looks like... a fighter, a scratcher, a <em>biter</em>-)</p><p>In the ends, it seems as though it wouldn’t have made a difference because she doesn’t bother taking the hand he extends, only looking down at it like it could give her a disease. Arms crossed. Pink lips pursed.</p><p>(<em>esuberante</em>. he thinks faintly.</p><p>he shouldn’t look at her lips.)</p><p>”I... wish I could say the same.” She replies, brow cocked, looking thoroughly unimpressed.</p><p>“Elena!”</p><p><em>oh, this will very interesting, indeed</em>.</p><p><br/>She wonders if this is the first instance in human history that bad karma for stuffing your whole foot inside your mouth involved staying in five star luxury in a stranger’s palatial home.</p><p>(<em>yes, good going, elena. because you opened up your damn mouth and mentioned a mob boss being late to his own business meeting, he went ahead and cancelled your hotel reservations and now you are staying at larger-than-it-needs-to-be, horror movie appropriate castle.</em></p><p><em>good going, girl. mom and dad would be proud</em>.)</p><p>And who looks like that and runs a criminal empire?</p><p>Massimo Torricelli is the most beautiful man she has ever laid eyes on and even admitting that to herself only makes her wanna leap out the nearest window.</p><p><em>ugh</em>.</p><p>She even skips dinner in order to avoid being in the same room with him.</p><p>At least until she can regroup and armor herself against... <em>whatever</em> it is he has up that sleeve of his.</p><p>She saw that look in his eyes when she had refused to shake his hand earlier.</p><p>She may be just as terrible with the opposite sex as she was in high school but, she’s not stupid either.</p><p>And it’s not like he hid it. Those dark eyes sweeping her up and down. That little smirk curling his lips.</p><p>fuck that.</p><p>A man like that spells nothing but, trouble and in any case, she’s here to handle his finances and to make sure he has a smart savings plan and not much else-</p><p>what. the. actual. hell?</p><p>Being so trapped inside her own head, she’s honestly surprised when she does find the room set up for her in the main wing of the house and wow.</p><p><em>(if this is the guest room of this place. i wonder how his room looks like and you did NOT just think that, did you?</em>)</p><p>The whole thing is huge and could fit easily a chunk of her kitchen and living room at the same time with enough inches to spare.</p><p>The room, like the rest of the home it seems, is built with slight goth influences in mind. A big canopy bed in the center with heavy drapes on even bigger windows and a sizable rug under the bed.</p><p>”Sweet jesus.” She breathes when she turns around and sees the open floor bathroom.</p><p>Because she can see it. Right there. Straight into the the showers. No door or coverings of any kind. Just straight old open space for anyone with a master key in this place to walk right in and see her in her birthday suit, soaping up.</p><p>(<em>and isn’t that a disturbing thought</em>?)</p><p>She does the next reasonable thing and flings off her shoes and does a leaping jump into that cozy looking bed.</p><p>She sighs as she sinks into the mattress, the perfect mix of firm and soft nearly lulling her right to sleep.</p><p>Then, after a few silent, blissful minutes (hours, maybe? she’s never been this relaxed)...</p><p>...the knock comes.</p><p>And for some reason, she just knows it’s <em>him</em>. Oh, she hopes for a long minute that it’s one of his Mr. Cleans or a maid asking about towels and sheets like at a 5-star but, no.</p><p>It’s him.</p><p>And he looks just as good as he did moments ago when they met. Tailored, black suit jacket gone to reveal the white button-down underneath, a good amount of chest hair and tanned skin on display.</p><p>(it’s distracting.</p><p>it’s disconcerting.</p><p>she doesn’t like it or him.)</p><p>He looks too good to be real and she remembers too late that her feet are bare and her hair already did it’s tously thing when she lay on the bed minutes before.</p><p>”Mr. Torricelli.” She greets as politely as she can because as much as she’s not happy with this situation, they are still business associates for the moment and she can try being a little professional.</p><p>”Elena.” He doesn’t rise to the bait and right away, she wants to smack that damn smirk right off his- </p><p>He breezes right past her into the room without so much as<em> ‘may i please?’</em> and she has to remind herself that he’s a mob boss with more money than Satan and that this is his home, his room...</p><p>...but, still.</p><p>“Please. Won’t you come in?”</p><p>(sometimes, silence really is golden.)</p><p>She keeps the door open a crack as he saunters in because, in spite of her stupid libido, being alone in a room with a man like him would surely be like a nail on the coffin.</p><p>“I spoke with your uncle.” He says, apropos of nothing, running his hands along the wooden frame of her bed. His tone conversational, casual. “I have business in Florence the day after next and I wanted to ask if you would accompany me.”</p><p>He doesn’t sound like he’s asking much of anything but-</p><p>“Financial business?”</p><p>He finally turns and looks at her, expression suspiciously cordial. “Yes. I have recently decided to invest in art museums there and I wondered if you would come along and...” His dark eyes stare at her, glinting, knowing. “...oversea the investment.”</p><p>”Of course.” She jumps on it because he’s actually talking business. She can ignore the look in his eye and the urges he stirs if she can do what she’s best at and work. “My uncle and I would love to-“</p><p>”No.” He shakes his head, bemusement in the curve of his mouth like she’s being purposefully ignorant. “No, <em>bella regazza</em>. I did not ask if you would both accompany me. I asked if <em>you</em> would.”</p><p>Her stomach drops all the way to her feet. “Excuse me?”</p><p>”I think you heard me.” He slinks closer and she stared at a spot over his shoulder to keep her composure. “You are the woman managing my money and I think it would be best if-“</p><p>”No.”</p><p>He falls quiet and <em>looks</em> at her and he may think that works for however many of his lackeys and underlings but, it won’t work on her.</p><p>”This is a business arrangement you have entered into with Ross &amp; Russo banking and my uncle, who is the Russo in that title.” She says with as much aplomb  as she can and not as though she’s reading from a script. “He is now the sole owner of R&amp;R and I am merely a bank manager and this could only work with the both of us present.”</p><p>She hopes he doesn’t catch the exhale she has to take afterwards in order to breathe.</p><p>Or her fibbing at the end there.</p><p>She did fib a little.</p><p>The truth is, she could easily go on this trip alone and oversea this transaction, see if it’s a smart investment or not because it’s her job. She has studied this and went to school for it and worked harder than anybody to get where she is.</p><p>She knows what she’s doing.</p><p>She just knows better than to go on a trip with this man. Where she could end up alone with him. On a plane. In a hotel.</p><p>No.</p><p>”Is it really necessary that you both come along?” He asks, the new tightness in his jaw the only giveaway that he didn’t appreciate her answer. “I’m sure you are perfectly capable-“</p><p>”I am.” She admits, her pride unable to keep her quiet and he really seems to have an issue with the word ‘no’. “But, yes, it would be better if my uncle came along as well.”</p><p>He takes another step closer still and she fights to not take one back to recreate space between them. His gaze coal black and penetrating like he can see everything. </p><p>She steels her nerves and keeps her eyes on him anyway. </p><p>
  <em>(god, he’s handsome. like a fantasy come to life. that hot stare. that mouth. the smell of him... earthy and spicy all at once.</em>
</p><p><em>i wish i were the type to make mistakes because he seems like a fun one</em>.)</p><p>He steps away. </p><p>She breathes.</p><p>”Very well.” He says, moving around her and towards the door as she keeps her gaze front and center. “A slight change in plans but, I can change the manifest to include your uncle as well.”</p><p>”Thank you.” </p><p>For a moment, she assumes that is it. He’ll leave then. Let her be.</p><p>She’s wrong. </p><p>Because he’s right there, breath minty and bracing next to her ear and she just about swallows her tongue.</p><p>She doesn’t turn around.</p><p>He speaks, voice low and warm. Almost intimate. “Sweet dreams, <em>bella regazza</em>.”</p><p>(<em>beautiful girl</em>. her mind translates distantly.)</p><p>Then, he’s gone. Faint hints of expensive cologne left in his wake.</p><p>She immediately turns and locks her door quickly. Her heart pounding. Mind racing.</p><p><em>well, this isn’t good</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter and doubly hope you come back for more!</p><p>esuberante = feisty </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. all work, no sleep, make plane rides dangerous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Massimo is still trying to get a read on his new business associate with <i>some<i> results and hilarity ensues on the plane ride to Florence as tensions arise.</i></i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oi! Welcome to part three!! I have been beyond pleased with the reactions and comments I got and I could not appreciate you guys more!! :)) </p><p>Here we go.</p><p>I’m glad you guys seemed to enjoy Elena and Massimo’s first official interaction because I was honestly nervous about it. Like I mentioned before, I wanted to keep the original framework of the character in tact while still adding my own changes and tweaks along the way. Like, I really wanted to keep his need for dominance and total control present while, having it being tampered some by Elena and his need to present himself as a friendly gentleman in front of her uncle (which, we saw in the movie, he can occasionally be).</p><p>And I just found it amusing that Elena isn’t dumb and knows what’s up. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elena Russo is a woman constantly working.</p><p>He finds that out when, the day after meeting her, she walks outside to have breakfast with him and her uncle, her phone already at her ear and talking in rapid English to someone named Izzy.</p><p>(his slight irritation tempered slightly by the fact that he can very much understand attending to business matters, big and small...</p><p>...and that dress. a flowery, flowing, thin distraction of a dress meant to bring his thoughts to the <em>filthiest</em> of places. </p><p>thoughts of her legs.</p><p>her thighs.</p><p>everything in between.)</p><p>And so it continues like that throughout the day.</p><p>After she deigns to take a break to eat with them, she ends up cutting it short to get some work done, that trusty phone already glued to her ear.</p><p>She does that. All. Day. Long.</p><p>She claims that it’s all meetings and work calls and important emails but, he does catch a snippet (or two) of conversation void of little, if any, talk of banking and business talk.</p><p>”Is she always like this?” He asks, Frederico and he watching her pace back and forth in his sun-lit courtyard, barely minding her beautiful surroundings and instead alternating between her laptop and more pacing as she speaks to a Mr. Murphy. Her speed more appropriate for the boardroom than the Sicilian countryside. “<em>fissata</em><em> col lavoro</em>, no?”</p><p>The old man only laughs brightly, his tone jovial as he says she has reason to be the way she is. That she has worked hard to get to where she is, speaking with pride, once again, of her intelligence. Her strength of will.</p><p>Her endless capacity for always thinking ahead of all the variables. </p><p>He has no doubt of that. He, himself, has spent half his life with his mind never shutting off entirely. Always aware. Always on. Always thinking five steps ahead.</p><p>That particular muscle only growing sturdier and more unyielding over the past five years. Growing to the point that he’s unwilling and unable to trust anyone outside of his inner circle.</p><p>If that.</p><p>Only receiving moments of something resembling peace when he’s gorging himself on any amount of mindless debauchery and pleasure he so desires.</p><p>And after that moment in her room yesterday, he has even less of a mind to underestimate her. Her will. Her intelligence. </p><p>Which is how he knows, somehow, that she’s taking this time to avoid him.</p><p>Avoid having to really speak to him or be alone with him.</p><p>Smart girl. </p><p>Frederico leaves him and he takes that moment to continue his perusal of the woman pacing his courtyard.</p><p>(lets his eyes follow the sway of her hips. her shapely legs. her purposeful stride. </p><p>how the sun hugs her and <em>bathes</em> her and makes her the brightest thing to ever pervade the corners of his existence.)</p><p>When she looks up at him, phone still at her ear, he smirks, not in the least bothered at being caught.</p><p>She smiles - a sharp, sardonic thing - and daintily waves at him from below, the gesture he’s certain a substitution for something else.</p><p>Lust and something suspiciously close to admiration punches at his chest and he sorely wishes that she had not resisted his attempts to take her to Florence with him without her uncle.</p><p>She doesn’t trust him. Any idiot (of which he is <em>not</em>) could see that. He knows that she already understands who he is and enough of what he does.</p><p>She doesn’t trust his intentions with her uncle. </p><p>He does not quite know what she thinks is going on here but, he has little to no recourse to hurt the old man.</p><p>He just wanted to try a different approach in protecting his assets because of the many discrepancies that had occurred over the past year along with the inadequacies of a certain accountant who had, since, disappeared.</p><p>(<em>how very unfortunate</em>.)</p><p>That is all. </p><p>He likes Frederico. He’s a decent man with integrity and honesty, which is admittedly hard to come by in his business. He’s not a greedy moron or a liar and he appreciates that greatly.</p><p>The fact that he has a beautiful, stubborn niece happens to be a small bonus.</p><p> </p><p>”Elena.”</p><p>She stiffens - because of course, she does - and turns around to face him, that lovely face set in an expression he could only define as displeasure.</p><p>Masked only by the excessively polite smile she gives him.</p><p>The kind of smile one would give an errand boy who won’t leave.</p><p>“Mr. Torricelli.” </p><p>One of his many fantasies (several times lived by now), has been to have a woman call him that.</p><p>Mister. Sir.</p><p>(<em>yes, sir. <br/>
</em></p><p>
  <em>whatever you desire, sir. <br/>
</em>
</p><p><em>do you want me to suck you off, sir?</em>)</p><p>With her, what bothers him the most is that he <em>doesn’t</em> like it.</p><p>It sounds... not right.</p><p>Why he cares is beyond him.</p><p>”Massimo.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” She’s squinting slightly under the blaring afternoon sun, peering up at him like he’s grown an extra head and although he doesn’t appreciate <em>that</em> in particular, she’s also close enough that he can see flecks of green in the sea-blue of her eyes and he could smell her perfume and that damn dress makes her look like an innocent village girl out of his most <em>perverse</em> dreams-</p><p>(he wants to sink his teeth into her.)</p><p>”My name is Massimo, not Mr. Torricelli.” He adds, pleased at the normal commanding tone in his voice, his dirty thoughts making him wanna unsheathe his claws at her. “I’m not an old man. There’s no need to be so formal.”</p><p>The squint intensifies. Her right eye twitching.  </p><p>He just barely holds back a grin.</p><p>”Not being formal. Just professional.” She says after a moment, once again, with that bland little smile that’s both driving him mad <em>and</em> causing his blood to boil in a not so unpleasant way. “And also, I’d really rather not.”</p><p>”Why?” He asks, not being able to help being a bit insulted.</p><p>”Because I don’t. want. to.” She enunciates, now very much looking at him like he’s a stupid child, that expression never quit leaving her face. “Are we done?”</p><p>(and that, he decides, is <em>enough</em>.</p><p>she may be beautiful and intelligent and he may want to fuck her in all of the ways he knows how but, enough is enough.)</p><p>”It’s either that or you can refer me to as the <em>don</em>.” He says because when in doubt, a little light blackmail always works.</p><p>She stares at him and he can see it then. That flash of temper and fire in those lovely eyes that he knows he saw when he visited her room yesterday. Just a touch of that <em>heat</em> he would only love to nurture and extend for better, much more <em>pleasurable activities</em>.</p><p>He may be a lot of things. He may have an arrogance that’s very much earned. He may be cruel sometimes and ruthless a lot of the time but, he hasn’t survived this long by being an idiot.</p><p>He’s more than smart and self-aware enough to understand that he can test people.</p><p>She’s just been the only one who’s bared her teeth back.</p><p>”Massimo it is then.” She finally says with an irritated sigh and he lets his smile escape this time.</p><p> </p><p>She’s not in the least bit surprised that he’s at her door promptly at ten am the next day. His knock precise and deliberate.</p><p>(he can’t just let me be in peace, can he?)</p><p>She’s only a little grateful that he bothered knocking to start with because she knows that he can just use whatever at his disposal to get in.</p><p>And for that, she’s more than pleased that she’s already dressed and that she barely needed to pack.</p><p>She’s not, however, grateful that she knows that it’s him at her door. Just instinctively knows. Knock or no knock, she barely <em>knows</em> him.</p><p>She <em>just</em> met him, for Christ’s sake!</p><p>She met him two days ago and ever since that moment when she first laid eyes on him, since the minute she met that dark, penetrating gaze, it’s been like some sort of thing happened.</p><p>Like a pull string tugging and pulling her at him and she does not appreciate it. </p><p>At all.</p><p>”How can I help you?” She asks first thing, thankful for her smart mouth as it goes dry at the sight of him.</p><p>He looks immaculate. So well put-together and coiffed that she has to resist the urge to tug at her blouse to make sure it’s tucked in.</p><p>(she thinks that’s the thing. the thing that will help keep herself in total control and continuously combat her desires. apart from him being a smirky bastard crime lord, that is. he’s soo good-looking that he makes her question herself.</p><p>yes. yeah, that’s it.)</p><p>“<em>buongiorno.</em>” He greets, his smooth accent making her heart leap, that damn smirk ever present on his face. </p><p>”<em>buongiorno</em> back.” She bites out dryly, flashing her teeth in a tight smile. “What brings you here?”</p><p>He only smiles, once again breezing right past her into the room and this is beyond the last thing she needs right now.</p><p>”You look lovely.” He says offhandedly, gaze gliding over her flowy blouse and dress pants because they’re going on a plane and thoughts of shifting and uncrossing and his eyes on her legs yesterday made the decision for her.</p><p>(she really doesn’t need this right now.)</p><p>“Look.” She begins, the minor headache she woke up with growing as she hasn’t had any form of caffeine yet and here is a mob boss strolling right into her room. <em>great</em>. “I really didn’t sleep too well last night and I haven’t had any coffee yet so, please spare me whatever it is-“</p><p>”Are you uncomfortable here?” He asks, looking at her from his perusal of the space that’s been hers for two nights. Her face burning as he lingers on her rumpled bedsheets. His tone casual enough. “I can switch out your room when we return if you like.” </p><p>He keeps his gaze on her then, as though wanting to absorb her reaction to the thus unexpected kindness.</p><p>(she’s nearly desperate, then, to tell him that it’s not her <em>accommodations</em> that are bothering her. it’s this place. this domicile on the outskirts of a Sicilian island large enough for her to get lost in. it’s the fact that she’s staying in <em>his</em> home. the fact that he’s somewhere nearby and she knows that by some weird instinct inside that only adds to her stress.</p><p>but, she doesn’t say any of that.)</p><p>”That’s not it.” She manages as honestly as she can. “This happens before new jobs sometimes. I get stress headaches  and I can’t sleep very much. It happens.” She adds at the strange expression on his face that she could almost mistake for concern and she’s said too much already. “It’s not... the room is fine. Thank you.”</p><p>And that is also true. The headaches and lack of sleep is very much a thing for her and the room is fine. She’s never slept on a bed more comfortable than her own and that shower is <em>ridiculous</em> in it’s luxury and regardless of where their loyalties lie, his staff has been nothing but, polite and accommodating despite her not even asking for much.</p><p>“I’m happy to hear it.” He says after a moment, sincerity sounding odd from him, even though he’s been nothing but, friendly since they got here. “We leave in an hour.” He adds as an afterthought on his way out the door, closing it behind him. Leaving her to blink with confusion in the spot where he once stood.</p><p>(<em>that was... strange</em>.)</p><p>Ten minutes later, french press coffee and hot tea is delivered to her room and there’s nothing in her that finds that thoughtful.</p><p>Not at all.</p><p> </p><p>Over an hour later, she and Uncle Freddy are standing on an airfield while waiting for Massimo’s private plane to settle in to collect them.</p><p>She’s glad that, even as a child, she was never afraid of flying because she doesn’t want phobias to be added to the noise in her head.</p><p>The plane lands and on they go. </p><p>The stairs up are something else and she has to watch herself only to nearly stumble on her journey, almost falling over in her heels, hand flailing to grab onto something, clasping into a warm, strong grip-</p><p>It’s him. It always has to be him, doesn’t it?</p><p>”Easy.” He murmurs loud enough for her to hear over the sounds of wind and plane and a tiny part of her unfurls out, towards his voice. The easy, smooth tenor. Steadying her. Feeling the light callouses and strength of his fingers and palm. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”</p><p>The sunglasses he’s wearing shield his eyes and she has no way of reading the look on his face. </p><p>He looks serious. Unreadable.</p><p>Which is just as well.</p><p>”Thank you.” She hears herself mumble as he lets go, her hand feeling cold without him in spite of the Sicilian heat.</p><p>(<em>damn</em>.)</p><p>After making sure her uncle is all settled in the more reclined seats to give him more leg room, she settles into her window seat.</p><p>And he sits right in front of her. </p><p>She clings onto the spike of annoyance that arises because as much as he is handsome, rich, and far from stupid, he is also arrogant, self-important, and dangerous.</p><p>(the first two she has seen in many a businessman who thought they had balls enough to try and step on her like she didn’t know what she was doing.</p><p>the third being a given because, mafia boss!</p><p>she somehow doubts his endeavors included taking care of shelter animals.)</p><p>“Do you like the plane?” </p><p>She looks up from texting her assistant, Izzy, to see him not even looking at her, gazing out the window as they enter the air. That strong profile on display. </p><p>(this is <em>bullshit</em>. he could have sat anywhere else.)</p><p>“The plane?” He repeats, peering out into the blue sky. “Do you like it?”</p><p>She knows the expression on her face is all over incredulous.</p><p>”Do I like a private plane with little people, first class one-on-one service, and comfort beyond anything I’ve experienced before?” She watches as he slowly turns to pay more and more attention to her throughout her words, staring at him in silence after for a long while before adding. “No, not at all. How could I <em>possibly</em>?”</p><p>She goes back to her phone, ignoring the eyes on her now, to find Izzy has sent her a new message with endless curiosity about the ‘Italian stallion’ she has mentioned since she got here and she scoffs, rolling her eyes as she replies.</p><p><em>gorgeous as expected. a bit aggravating, to be honest</em>.</p><p>She spends a good amount of time that way, texting Izzy and answering business emails left and right to kill time and pointedly ignoring the pair of dark eyes burning a hole at the top of her head.</p><p>The plane ride thus far is smooth and bump-free. So smooth and free of any kind of turbulence in fact that the fact that she barely got any sleep the night before starts getting to her and she feels herself start to drift off little by little until-</p><p>“If you need some rest.” That smooth, deep voice startles her and she opens her eyes to see her long quiet neighbor gazing at her with amusement. “There’s a couch in the back. It’s quite comfortable.”</p><p>Of course, she had forgotten that he was still there. Seeing, watching, everything as usual.</p><p>(she’s so <em>tired</em>, though.)</p><p>She looks to see her uncle comfortably reclining with a book and his reading glasses on.</p><p>She could use the rest. </p><p>So, she silenced the voice in her head and gets up, telling her uncle that she’s heading to the back for some shut-eye, kissing him on the cheek quickly before leaving him.</p><p>All the while feeling those eyes following her as she goes.</p><p><br/>
The couch in the back is comfortable and after taking off her shoes to lie down, she falls asleep almost instantly.</p><p>She thinks she’s dreaming at first. A warm, cocoon-like feeling settling over her. Strong fingers stroking her neck and shoulders with a light, sensual touch. Brushing her hair out of her face. Caressing her cheek-</p><p>(<em>oh, this feels so real</em>.)</p><p>Hot breath tickling her ear. An accented rumble of a voice. A sweet mix of Italian and English, whispering in honeyed tones-</p><p>“Elena.” </p><p><em>(no. she doesn’t wanna wake up. she doesn’t wanna go</em>.)</p><p>”Elena.” Knuckles stroke her face gently in spite of the impatience building in that voice. “Elena,<em> bella ragazza</em>, you have to wake up now.”</p><p>She grumbles and he chuckles in a weirdly familiar way and-</p><p>(<em>oh, hold on, wait</em>-)</p><p>”Elena.” </p><p>She jumps awake. Flailing and batting out her arms and not realizing her mistake until it’s too late and she feels her palm connect with his nose and there’s a howl-</p><p>“Fuck!” She hears him yell and the first thing she sees upon opening her eyes is him clutching his face in his hand.</p><p><em>fuck</em>.</p><p>”Fuck!” She echoes, already on her feet and over to him, not knowing what exactly to do. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>”I was waking you up!”</p><p>”I’m so sorry!”</p><p>He mumbles something in Italian she’s certain <em>has</em> to be unpleasant but, she ignores it in favor of trying to pry his hands away from his face.</p><p>Which, predictably, he vehemently refuses to let her do.</p><p>”Oh, stop it, I’m trying to help you-“</p><p>”I don’t need <em>your</em> help.” He says through gritted teeth, resisting her more.</p><p>He nearly bangs his skull on the window pane trying to get further away from her, eyes black and angry, and she could just... <em>ugh</em>! She barely touched him and he’s acting like a big baby.</p><p>He releases a very clear stream of angry Italian at her then and he’s really making her wanna break his nose for real, this time!</p><p>”I am not a dangerous hussy!”</p><p>He only scoffs, turning away from her and continuing to ignore her attempts to help him.</p><p>
  <em>(this is great. <br/>
</em>
</p><p><em>just perfect</em>.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey! Sorry it took so long, it just took a hot minute to finish up. I hope you enjoyed. Y’all know the game by now. Keep those comments coming! :))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. whatever happens in florence...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everybody lands in Florence. Elena doesn’t take her accommodations well at all, Domenico gives his brother a piece of his mind and Massimo is who he is.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh, hello there! How have you been? Good? Crappy? No, I really wanna know. </p>
<p>Anyhow, welcome, as usual! From what I’ve gathered, you guys seemed to enjoy the last chapter and I couldn’t be happier because honestly, I was nervous no one would appreciate the bit of comedy I wanted to infuse at the end there but, it looks like you all did. :)</p>
<p>Again, as I have mentioned in the first chapter, this is just my fantasy of dumping Massimo Torricelli into my story with original characters and not trying to rework the material we already know (kudos to you all who have and did a <i>hell<i> of a job!) though, there are gonna be bits of callbacks to that as we go, which you’re going to see a bit of in this Florence section. :))</i></i></p>
<p>WARNING: There’s depiction of male masturbation, as well as fantasy-related objectification and sexuality in this here chapter so, if you are at all not okay with that, just go ahead and skip to the last paragraph after my handy parentheses. You can also note the change in my tags. Cool? Cool! </p>
<p>Special thanks to Blullu who offered assistance on the Italian. If it starts to make more sense throughout, you know who to thank!<br/>Enjoy!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He doesn’t speak to her all throughout their landing in Florence.</p>
<p>It’s kind of annoying.</p>
<p>After the incident on the plane, between her and the flight attendant, he had eventually stopped being a stubborn asshole and allowed her to take a look at him, the poor girl assisting her with wet towels and rags, looking at them, aghast, as though shocked that he wasn’t kicking up more of a fuss.</p>
<p>Though, in her personal opinion, he had been plenty fussy.</p>
<p><em>(christ, men are babies</em>.) </p>
<p>Not to mention a grumbling man-baby as she titled his head back to check him.</p>
<p>After a minute, she let the flight attendant off the hook and the young girl couldn’t have run out of there fast enough, looking simply terrified of the angry man with the bloody nose.</p>
<p>
  <em>yeah, real big bad wolf, this one.</em>
</p>
<p>All in all, she hadn’t done a ton of damage.</p>
<p>Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impossible about it.</p>
<p>(<em>“it doesn’t look like it’s broken-“</em></p>
<p>
  <em>”you don’t say.” he says for the first time in english since the hardheaded refusals and consistent, angry italian aimed at her.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>honestly, she would prefer the italian.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>at least, it sounds nicer.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”stop being childish.” she recalls the little bit of first aid she knows in carefully dabbing at the still perfect crook of his nose, her aim having mostly committed the small crime of causing a little bleeding. “it was an accident.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>he makes a pfft! sound in the back of his throat that she pointedly ignores in favor of finishing up because they’re a lot closer than she’s comfortable with already in order for her to peer at her handiwork, practically sitting on his lap to do so, his stubble tickling her palms as she holds his jaw at an angle, the very male heat of him searing through her clothes, the scent of his</em> <em>cologne up her nose-</em></p>
<p>
  <em>it’s torture.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”besides, you shouldn’t have been sneaking in on me when i was asleep-“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”-i was not sneaking-“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”-you shouldn’t have been creeping-“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”well, you should be more aware of your surroundings-“</em>
</p>
<p><em>”-how dare you-“</em>)</p>
<p>Well, it’s been that way ever since. He has barely said a word to her and she never thought she would be irritated by that.</p>
<p>Irritated mostly because she knows that this is some dumb form of male posturing to save face in front of his brother and his bodyguards.</p>
<p>All of whom seem to be holding themselves back from making jokes at their boss’s expense after being confronted by the sight of Massimo The Great grumbling like a little boy with her clutching a towel to his nose.</p>
<p>All the while staring at her like she's a witch versed in the dark arts.</p>
<p>It’s both empowering and very weird.</p>
<p>They spend the entire car ride in stiff silence even they are literally sitting right next to each other because life's funny sometimes and almost immediately she wishes she had asked to ride in the other car based on the fact that every speed bump, they continue to knock shoulders, she can't breathe without accidentally inhaling him, and at some point, their hands end up hovering near one another and she will not look at him as their hands' brush, her heart in her throat when his pinkie finger meets hers-</p>
<p>When they arrive at the <em>alfieri</em> <em>collezione</em>, she can't run out of the car fast enough.</p>
<p>(luckily, any thoughts of the tall, dark nuisance following are swiftly overshot by the sight of their hotel and she tries to keep the awe off her face because even by the looks of the lobby, it's already too luxurious for words with its glimmering floors and high ceilings and marble walls and the front desk is literally encased in gold, so there's that.)</p>
<p>They still don't speak to each other checking into their rooms and all the way into the elevator, the silent tension taking over space between and around them, his bodyguards, Uncle Freddy, and Domenico not even daring to stump the quiet atmosphere and standing next to him, looking as impeccable and expressionless as ever, she has the sudden, immature urge to stomp on his foot just to see what he'd do.</p>
<p>The elevator stops before she could follow up on that.</p>
<p>On the highest floor because, yes, Massimo Torricelli has to be above everyone else.</p>
<p>She fights a laugh at the absurdity of that thought and instead walks out of the elevator, bidding her uncle to rest after the plane ride, leaving him flanked by the bodyguards to his room nearest to the elevator and walking further the hall with Domenico at her side and the man currently grating her nerves stalking ahead of them down the polished hallways.</p>
<p>He disappears, predictably, into the door at the very end of the hall. A big, ornamental door that he quickly and efficiently opens and promptly slams behind him.</p>
<p>All without a word to neither her nor Domenico and when they both look at one another from watching the little display, the boom of the door slam followed by a long silence, she says. "Your brother is a child."</p>
<p>(<em>ever since she had met him, Domenico had been nothing but, friendly and accommodating, Massimo having decided less than a day into her stay in his home to assign his much more amiable younger brother as an 'assistant' for her of sorts. which she didn't fully get because it wasn't needed but, the nicer of the Torricelli brothers had quickly grown on her with offers of showing her the best clothing shops and cafes around the island, which she declined because she had been too busy to making sure she ate throughout the day and that she was happy with her stay.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>so, yeah, she liked him enough now to be as blazingly honest as she wants.)</em>
</p>
<p>"<em>si</em>. He can be." He agrees primly as she shakes her head, producing her key to recall her room number and they stop in front of the door matching the number given and it is-</p>
<p>"No." She whispers once she realizes where her room is located and it's implications. "No." She states definitely, looking at the slightly abashed looking man next to her.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"No!" She nearly yells, looking at her door like it might protrude an arm to grab her. "Jesus christ. Did he really-?"</p>
<p>"Yes." Domenico nods sagely, as calm as you please and she could swear that he looks almost amused. "I told him. I did tell that it was a bad idea-"</p>
<p>"Did you?" She grumbles angrily, shoving her card key angrily into the room right next door to one of the most infuriating men she has ever met in all her years. "Did you really?"</p>
<p><em>(right next door. of all the arrogant things-</em>)</p>
<p>She barrels into the room and as expected, the whole thing is amazing. It has the honest-to-god nerve to be beautiful, all warm browns and creams and high ceilings, big ornate windows open to a cool breeze and views of Florence, and is that a bathtub behind the big bed? <em>fuck</em>!</p>
<p>"Of course, it's beautiful." She says morosely, resigned to her fate, her hands on her hips as she stares at the relaxation she has awaiting her. "Goddammit."</p>
<p>"So, I'll let him know you like it, then?"</p>
<p>She turns to see Domenico looking even more bemused, holding back a smile behind his fist. "You will <em>not</em>."</p>
<p>He does laugh this time and is barely able to dodge a pillow being thrown at his head and now she can see the family resemblance.</p>
<p>"You're unbelievable." </p>
<p>"Just enjoy it." He offers, still chuckling, yet still graciously setting her pillow on a lounge chair and she wonders, not for the first time, how these two are even related. "My brother is a tenacious bastard, I can admit." He adds, to her surprise. "But, please, for me, try to have a nice time at his expense, at least." He puts his hands on his heart dramatically until she scoffs, peering at the room again. </p>
<p>"Besides, he won't bother you." It's hard to miss another threatening to break out from behind her. "He's too busy contemplating how you broke his nose."</p>
<p>"I didn't break his nose." She defends, right now wishing that it were true. "<em>Again</em>. It was an accident. I smacked him by accident when he snuck up on me while I was asleep. Which..." She gestures to get her point across. "...If you could give me any message from me, is that in America, it's never okay to sneak up on anybody, <em>especially</em> a woman, while they're asleep."</p>
<p>"I will inform him myself."</p>
<p>"Yes, you do that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Massimo smirks to himself as his brother lets himself into the room, having heard Elena’s yelled proclamation from out in the hall.</p>
<p>He figures they had gone inside the suite because he hadn’t heard anything else except muffled voices, one louder than the other (it’s <em>her</em> voice, he knows it is, that gorgeous, spitting fury-).</p>
<p>He knew she would be displeased by the arrangement but, it hadn’t stopped him from indulging in laughter after hearing the clear anger in her voice.</p>
<p>”She took it well, I take it?”</p>
<p>”Ecstatic.” Domenico says, deadpan, his face lit with amusement. “For a moment, I feared she would kill me just to spite you.”</p>
<p>He scoffs, his smirk growing into a rare, if half-hearted, smile as he pictures the fiery woman’s reaction to his stunt.</p>
<p>(<em>if you were to ask him what exactly he was thinking, what he was planning to achieve in doing this? the answer would be he hadn’t been thinking much. with the exception of his business, he has lived his life mostly following his impulses and impulsively, he had decided to book her a room right next to him, thoughts of her ruling his mind-</em></p>
<p>
  <em>-thoughts of her sleeping and breathing and eating and bathing a wall away from him-</em>
</p>
<p><em>-well, in a way, it’s his most perverse thoughts</em>.)</p>
<p>His brother is staring at him.</p>
<p>He could feel inquisitive eyes attempting to burn holes into the back of his head and the silence is of the loaded kind when Domenico is trying to think of ways to tell him something.</p>
<p>He hates that silence.</p>
<p>”Out with it.” He says, without turning around.</p>
<p>More silence.</p>
<p>”Domenico-“</p>
<p>”You do realize...” His brother says carefully and he knows immediately that he’s not going to like what he hears. “...that there is no way that this won’t end badly.”</p>
<p>He turns, finally looking Domenico in the face. His expression riddled with something close to concern.</p>
<p>He doesn’t appreciate that look. He <em>hates</em> that look.</p>
<p>His dear brother knows that.</p>
<p>"End?"</p>
<p>"...Because it <em>will</em> end." The younger man adds, as though in mid-thought, his tone cautious. "She will not stay here. Not for you. Not for anything. She lives in another world, brother." He says almost apologetically. "She's an American woman, Massimo. All the time we spent together, everything she talked about had to do with her American city. The same city she will return once whatever business you have with her uncle ends. So, whatever it is you are planning-"</p>
<p>"Domenico-"</p>
<p>"Don't." His brother quickly intercedes, understanding that his window of honesty is closing rapidly. "Leave her be. She is intelligent and beautiful and temperamental but, she is not worth the trouble. You have other choices, Massimo. Better matches. Like Anna-"</p>
<p>"Do not!" He interrupts, having had enough of this. Enough of his brother's trifling and nosiness. He expected this from Mario but, not <em>him</em>. "Do. Not. Bring. Anna. Into. This." He warns, nearly growling, his blood boiling.</p>
<p>Knowing that he's already tried his older brother's patience, Domenico leaves him be, walking out of the room and to his thoughts. </p>
<p>Left alone, he lays back on the black sheets of his bed, mind running at a fast pace, going in every direction possible. His brain never shutting off. </p>
<p><em>(his brother knew better than to mention anna. he hasn't seen her in months and he doesn't plan to anytime soon. their parting had been less than amicable and she hadn't contacted him in weeks, to his relief. domenico wasn't incorrect on saying she was a better match for him, in some sense of the word. she was stunning, with her long, tanned legs and her golden hair. sex with her was always good, that was never the problem</em>. <em>though they had begun a relationship based on physical pleasure and not much else, she had visibly started developing feelings for him and he knew it had to end.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>because when all was said and done, when they lay there, sweat cooling on their bodies and he would look at her-</em>
</p>
<p><em>-he felt nothing. not fondness or affection</em> <em>or</em><em> love.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>he was used to that. he was used to attraction and lust and want and desire to last him his nights. to keep his bed from being cold.</em>
</p>
<p><em>still, he had to wonder if a part of him was growing more bored with it all</em>.)</p>
<p>The more he considers his brother's words, the more he wishes he hadn't. The angrier he grew. The more the itch under his skin bled to the surface and he wants so badly to scratch it. The more agitated he becomes, his mind returning, as it had for the past two days, to the obstinate, beautiful creature just on the other side of a wall from him.</p>
<p>He feels that itch grow stronger. Expand. Unfurl. His gut tightening, his balls filling, his cock growing and hardening-</p>
<p>With that, his body ready and demanding, his mind only on <em>her</em>, he strips and goes to the shower.</p>
<p>The hot water is at once a balm and stimulate and all he does is think of her, his mind dead set on it. Her lovely face. Those eyes. That volumptuous, little body he knows must be hiding under those modest dresses and pants and blouses-</p>
<p>(<em>he thinks of what has to be beautiful, bountiful breasts, her strong, shapely legs, the soft, wet center of her, those</em> <em>able hands and fingers, that are always holding a phone or typing away at that little laptop of hers, around his hard cock, his size unable to allow those small hands to surround him fully-</em></p>
<p><em>-he imagines her on her knees, peeking out from under her dark lashes, eyes stormy blue and full of desire, shower water running in rivulets down her naked body, holding him between her gorgeous tits, rubbing him on her rosy nipples, teasing him until he can finally be</em> <em>allowed to fuck that tight channel-</em></p>
<p>
  <em>-he thinks of her stopping, despite his protests, holding him at her mercy as she turns away, slowly backing into him til his eyes roll shut from the pleasure of it, her ass flush with his hips, her movements sure as she fucks herself on him, chasing her pleasure, a selfish, greedy thing, her moans high and unabashed-</em>
</p>
<p><em>-in his fantasies, in the dark recesses of his mind, she’s as wild in his bed as she ever is with her temper</em>-)</p>
<p>He comes the hardest that he ever has since he was a school boy. His cum shooting out between his fingers as he groans hoarsely, gritting his teeth against the images in his head, punching his fist  to the shower so hard he could’ve fractured something.</p>
<p>He stands there, his heart slowing, his body calming.</p>
<p><em>this is already getting out of hand</em>.</p>
<p>Maybe his brother is right.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*peaks out from curtains* Did you like it? Was it worth the wait? It’s not much but, I hope it was good for now. </p>
<p>I don’t even wanna get into what I was thinking when I wrote that last part other than, tell me what you think.</p>
<p>Be honest. :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed it! Tell me if you guys enjoyed it enough to want more. I have a few ideas as to where this is going but, it’s all an incoherent mess in my brain at the moment so, we’ll see, I guess. ;)</p><p>Comment, kudos, do your thing! Thank you for reading!! :))</p></blockquote></div></div>
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